


A Mouthful of Stone

by a_secret_scribbler



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Protective Kylo Ren, no TLJ spoilers, space boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secret_scribbler/pseuds/a_secret_scribbler
Summary: “I found this pebble half buried in the sand and it was warm, an almost perfect circle, with a hole right through the centre.”





	A Mouthful of Stone

  
One day, seventeen hours, fifteen minutes and twenty six seconds, it takes me that long before I put it in my mouth. Sure, I’ve fiddled with it, run it back and forth on it’s cord. Spun it around a bit. But tonight, it went the way of most things, into my mouth.

Kylo made it you see. I’m not one for trinkets or frippery, but we were sitting on the beach, watching the suns set, and, dare I say it, it felt kind of romantic. Then I found this pebble half buried in the sand and it was warm, an almost perfect circle, with a hole right through the centre. I picked it up and showed it to Kylo, he took it off me and held it in his giant paw.  
“What you have here Hux is a magical stone, see, the magic comes out of the hole in the middle. It protects the owner.”  
He hands it back to me and I make to throw the stone into the sea, but we both know that won’t happen. I throw badly, that’s why I joined the military, sports were not my forte, unless you count the fact that I was school champion at pogo stick endurance. Over 2000 bounces, no other six year old came near. My father still refused to be impressed. So, I don’t throw the stone. I drop it back in the sand to be forgotten and washed away by the tide (just for your information, Ren can throw a stone better than he can throw a tantrum, and his tantrums are quite spectacular). We return to the hotel for another bout of marathon sex, my favourite.

Four days and a tender arsehole later, we return from shore leave to The Finalizer. I am due back on the bridge at 6 am the next morning so we decide, I decide, that it would be sensible to sleep in our own quarters. My bum is so sore from all the enthusiastic buggering it has endured, and I am somewhat fatigued. Kylo looks a little disappointed but settles his (beautiful) face into resignation and then, after hoisting his backpack back over his shoulder, he leans in, pecks me on the cheek and slips a little package into my hand, no NOT his penis. That would be a large package, didn’t I mention my sore bum? Pay attention! He smiles that honey-eyed smile and heads off to his room and I’m left holding a small, tissue wrapped bundle. There is no ribbon, nor card, he’s wrapped this himself, this would account for the two metres of sellotape which I bite through in my haste to get to the present. And there it is. The magical stone. Threaded onto a long brown leather cord. I immediately slip it over my head and the stone drops and rests against my chest, between my nipples, my ‘invisible nipples’ according to my precious space lout, though he’s quite capable of finding them when he wants to...but I digress, again.

I reach out to him with my thoughts, and, as if I am his own personal beacon, his voice echos in my head.  
“So, you like it?”  
“Yes Kylo, I’m wearing it.”  
“I made it when you went to look at that temple, you know the one with all the cats...”  
“I said pussy’s. It was covered in carvings of vagina’s, you dolt. They worshipped the female Goddess D’Olina.”  
“Oh yeah...right...that, anyhow, you like it then?”  
“Yes. I. Like. It.”  
“It’ll protect you with it’s magic, when I’m not there to do the job myself.”  
“Yes. I’m sure it will.”  
“Hux...”  
“Yes my murderous mountain? My glorious giant? My very own personal climbing wall...”  
“I miss you...”  
“Kylo. We’ve only been apart for eight minutes!”  
“Can I sleep over, please? I won’t touch your bouncy little bum, I promise. Not even if you wiggle it at me enticingly, not even if you press it into my crotch and I get so hard I could poke the hole in doughnuts, not even then. I will cease and desist...please...”  
He begs so beautifully that how can I resist, “Oh very well...”  
As I feel him withdraw from my mind, the door to my room slides open and he’s stood there grinning that lopsided grin with added puppy dog eyes.  
“Come in then you force-idiot!” I spit, there is no venom in the words.  
We end up naked in my bed, him the big spoon, he is poking my tender botty with his meat sword and I have to remind him of his promise by retelling the tale of Millicent and the well chewed Porg. His ardour, it is cooled. He falls asleep first, his arms around me, his hand fisting the stone around my neck, I know now I’ll never remove it. The bastard. It will ruin the line of my jacket.

So. Fast forward six months, he’s off at some family conference thing, murdering his father doesn’t let him off apparently. I’m left here, in charge, and it’s all fine. Fine. Until it isn’t anymore, and he doesn’t arrive back on time, and my left eyelid starts that twitching thing it does when I get anxious. Then I’m pressing the com’s button on and off just to make sure it’s working, and to ensure Major Phasma can get hold of me should his ship make contact, but I start to really piss her off with my hastily made up reasons for comm’ing her, so she shows up at the command deck and threatens to do something with my pasty little ass that I really don’t ever need to hear again. I should fire her for her insubordination but she’s the only one I trust to feed Millicent when I’m away. She shoves me ahead of her all the way down the corridors to my room and tells me to “Go. The. Fuck. To. Bed! Staying awake will not make him return any quicker!” I glare at her, my best glare, the one I usually save for the guy in the canteen who never dries the trays properly, and I say “I don’t know to what you are referring, Major...Goodnight!” It only takes me three attempts to open my door and sweep majestically into my room.

So. Here I am. Lying on my bed, and it smells of him and I’m thinking of all the possible bad things that could have happened, and right between him being swallowed by a black hole and a ferocious mauling by a Bantha, I convince myself that he is never coming back. And it is one day, seventeen hours, fifteen minutes and twenty six seconds when I put the stone into my mouth like a pacifier and I suck on it. It is warm in my mouth and my tongue dips into the hole where the cord runs, and it is rougher on one side than the other, because even though it has taken millions of years for this rock to form, it has only taken six months against my skin to give it a patina of sweat and salt and oils. I lie here comforting myself, oblivious to the opening door, to the dipping of the mattress until there he is, his face hovering above mine, wearing a quizzical expression, biting back amusement.  
“Whatcha doing there?” He asks.  
I can’t speak, I have a mouthful of stone.  
He leans over, closer. “So. What does it taste like?”  
I give him nothing, until, until, he presses a kiss against my lips, swoops in with his tongue, and scoops that goddamn stone right out of my mouth and into his own.

He pulls back, as far as the cord around my neck will allow him, and I look up at him as he rolls it around his mouth.  
“So?” I ask, petulantly , “What does it taste like to you?”  
His face breaks into a grin. The stone slips from between his lips and lands with a wet plop on my chest.  
“Love. Hux. It tastes of love.”  
And I am lost.  
The Bastard.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Hux. You neat freak. What lies beneath? 
> 
> Based on an imagined sighting of a leather cord around Domhnall Gleeson's neck which turned out to be a microphone.


End file.
